Long Ranging Poems
Long Ranging Poems. Below are the most popular long Ranging by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ranging poems by poem length and keyword.
“Wait! Wait!! Wait now Driver !!!
Your passengers still dey down
Which kain Driver be dis sef?
Those ladies never enter abi?”
Passengers stood up echoing angrily
Some hitting hard at the snail-like Marcoppolo
Alas! The man behind the wheel paused.
The left passengers rushed in
All ranging with anger
Alhaja’s fury got to the crescendo
She was fell twice before hooking up
To the cat-walking moving house.
Pacing up and down inside it
The man still raining abuses on all we
And the one who conducts him joined
The Alhajas, they harassed to our chagrin.
Unto the ears of the Boss of the Man
Behind the wheel she beckons
“ He must pay dearly for this”
She echoes, trying not to sob.
At the very park of the vehicle in Zaria
The Alhajis . . . we and others complained
That a slow mad man was wheeling our lives
We want him no more to wheel our lives
There comes the change of the Driver
As we all laughed and giggled to Kaduna.
Alayande Stephen. T
7.30pm
21st of July, 2006
The globe is in lockdown,
the borders are closed
the news is all gloom and despair,
Covid-19 is the new kid in town
causing panic and fear everywhere.
Our lives are all changing,
effects are wide ranging,
whole nations are put to the test,
and though we don't like it
these methods to fight it,
some things are changing for the best.
In future, through habit, we know everyone
will all have incredibly clean hands,
and as the whole nation goes self-isolation
you can avoid people that you can't stand.
The shelves may be empty,
our shopping restricted,
the choices a narrower range,
but Fresh fruit and veg are still plentiful,so
maybe our diets will change.
The Missus no longer complains about football
and too much of it on TV,
now I smile while her episode of 'Eastenders'
is put back by the BBC.
So stiff upper lip, folks, keep raising a smile,
all in this together we'll pull,
life is not risk-averse, whatever the curse
just face it with your glass half full.
For contest 'Covid-19', sponsor Team Poetry Soup
18th March 2020
The Carnivore Within...
Meaty morsels besiege
this vegetarian advocate
yet, the atavistic Jainist within me decries,
egg hen hies his, and lamb hence
carnivorous ache that won't abate
case in point being on the horns
hoof ah dill ham ma, neither willing,
nor ready to abdicate
nagging, succumbing, and writhing,
asper Pavlov's dog salivation,
Ike hen not obliterate
every now and again curr raven
hunger for game, though aye abominate
hone beak able unethical abuse
delivered sans electric ham not prod,
nor pleased, when yours truly doe eth abrogate
his staunch conviction against
merciless maltreatment of animals
which doth exhaust and accelerate
environmental degradation, and realized
moo mints agoo, a temptation did accentuate
bull dozing tenuous die hard longing,
how quickly temptation,
recidivism, and predilection to accommodate,
and appease feeling mouth watering za eel
for ma ham mulls hamstrung taste, I did acclimate
and acquire ineradicable taste primal beastie boys
relished after the hunt squatting by flick ring fire
with other village people
tearing killed deer - if accurate,
nonetheless a grievance
(akin to heresy) as a traitor
Joe against fundamental aversion to reactivate
cow hard lee self betrayal caving against tenets
regarding aversion to the very business
of slaughter (houses), and I eve hen advocate
against gluten free NON GMO free ranging
creatures, who can experience pain
and suffering, some display affectionate
behaviour, plus without doubt agitate
without success to savor natural longevity,
perhaps becoming family pet,
whose tender loving (vittle) care will not alienate
said domesticated innocent
porpoise full chums
hoof found a caring home, articulate
ting compassion, tha hare fore,
a conscientious baldpate
or hirsute organic caretaker,
would neigh ver deer stirrup the roost
ruffle any tail feathers, only celebrate
affection, and mane lee horse around!
Japan's consequences were a little more apparent, and devastating. Japan's once great city of Hiroshima, lay in ruin, a barren wasteland, with its entire population, sixty thousand individuals, perished instantly in one bright and intense flash. The first casualties of nuclear power in the "Atomic Age." Another forty thousand individuals, living further from the blast crater, barely escaping annihiliation; only to suffer an unpredictable, yet inevitable death sentence. Forced to suffer seconds, days, months, even years before the radiation coursing through their bodies killed them as well. Their dying days spent replaying their observation of the events of that day and the image of everyone they ever knew being instantly vaporized into dust.
The victims of America's cruel and vicious attack were not war hardened soldiers, having already accepted the possible fate of fighting a war with a country as brutal as the United States. Sadly, most of the victims were innocent civilians; mothers, fathers, siblings, and children, ranging in age from vibrant newborns to the weakened old. All unaware of their impending doom. No different were these civilians than the American soldiers families enjoying the comfort and safety of their American homes. The only thing these people were guilty of, being born and continuing to live in a nation that opposed the Great American Empire. The guilty parties in this matter, were the American leaders ordering the airstrike and the twelve men who carried it out. Both, displaying a complete disregard for human life, or a shred of decency. The totality of the death, devastation, and destruction, the three D's of a Nuclear attack, was absolutely horrific, sickening even.
With their actions, these men provided the perfect definition for the word, Atrocity. Made even worse by the fact, that two days later, they did it again, this time to the Japanese city of Nagasaki. Answering for the death of 2,403, by killing roughly 250,000 innocent Japanese civilians, is not appropriate retaliation. In truth, it was then, and still is today, the worst example of a nation's atrocity in human existence, absolute evil. How anyone is still proud of being American after the year 1945, defies understanding. The only question remaining, is "How proud are you?"
Apache, the Ndee, "the people" of Arizona and other States
Blackfoot, the Siksika, whose painted red faces we can relate
Cheyenne, the Tsitsistas, meaning relatives of the Cree
Dakota Sioux, the Dakota, meaning little snakes in Ojibwe
Euchee, or Yuchi, are the "children of the sun"
Fox, the Meskwaki, eventually native to Wisconsin
Gros Ventre, strangely named "big belly" by the French
Huron, with their above allies left many a tribe wrenched
Inuit, the Eskimo, this tribe with the snow
Juaneño, from the Sunshine State around Orange and San Diego
Kickapoo, with their linguistic code, unique called "whistle speech"
Lakota, like the Dakota, speak with similar tongues they teach
Mohawk, "People of the Flint" from upstate New York
Navajo, is now the most spoken, where extinction has not gone berserk
Ottawa, "the traders" their name lives on in their City
Potawatomi, "fire keepers" one hundred speakers, my hearts in pity
Qwulhhwaipum, "the prairie people from beyond the mountain range"
Ryawas, by the Missouri River where they no longer reign
Shawnee, meaning "southerner" were a far ranging tribe
Tonkawa, "they keep together" but only a few still reside
Ute, of Colorado and Salt Lake valley fame
Victorious the ones who remain to this day, whilst the V has no name
Wiyot, and its last native speaker, died in 1962
X, xenophobic they would be, to the ancestors of me and you
Yavapai, from Arizona, are the "people of the sun"
Zuni, like all the tribes above, fell victim to the white mans gun.
See where I started,
in the garden of my childhood.
Fenced around with parents
hedged in with strict convention.
Walk with me.
The bare hills of ambition from my youth
lead upward, onward, overlooking
crowds and earthbound throngs.
Climb the eroding pathway to the top
whence with far-ranging envy see,
mocking,
the high peaks of distant mountains,
unattainable,
glitter their silvered summits.
Stand on these cliffs and wonder
as the seabirds plunge and soar
like hopes and aspirations
tempting disaster as fate's breakers
beat upon the rocks of past mistakes.
Walk on the clifftop, if you dare;
the tightrope of success;
never relaxing concentration,
risking the headlong plunge
from heaven to hell slowed only,
if you're lucky,
by the outstretched hand of friendship.
Now wander through these quiet woods
of contemplation,
restful and green with peaceful glades.
Soft birdsong filters shafts of sunlit
understanding,
bringing into wondering view
the undergrowth of hidden imaginings.
Sit for a while, for a short season's warmth
beside this running brook of happiness
and listen to its peaceful trills
contrapuntal to the murmured sounds
of slow, contented summer,
tranquil in a lover's arms beneath
the frantic beauty of the skylark's song.
Descend these nameless, slippery paths
that lead through the dark places
to the chasms,
to the lonely depths of black despair
where midnight terrors lurk
in deep, dank caves of restless sleep
and every monster's shadow looms
large and overbearing.
I offer you no final resting place,
no welcoming tavern for a lifetime's thirst,
no sheltered bungalow to care for
after work well done.
Only a cross-roads in a barren place
where a blind fingerpost
hints at unseen directions,
untravelled paths with unknown travellers
crossing.
Walk with me.
Kim James
26/5/95
"Lucky me - I grew up by the Pacific sea" ~ quote by poet
Its depths and vast breadth suggest a mystery.
I've pondered it from airplanes, boats, and shore -
the Pacific Ocean in all its glory,
from its gentle lapping to its mighty roar.
Underneath the unchanging blue expanse,
lies a wide-ranging world of features -
magma oozing from deep sea vents,
blue whales, giant squid, and all kinds of creatures.
Earth's biggest site's fascinating history,
from Polynesians in palm leaf canoes
to the battles of recent generations,
and the many lives we had to lose.
More than that are personal memories
and evocations of sites and smells,
as my eyes well with salty moisture.
I am with Mother, picking up seashells,
And it's to the Pacific, I must thank
for the sunsets and moonlit nights,
promoting long lost budding romances.
Oh, how I miss those sweet delights.
I can feel warmth all over me again
Something powerful, something strong
Keep propelling me towards a fearless victory.
I hold on strong to my determination
As my faith and higher spiritual powers
Sanction me to keep fighting on.
I walk towards the gigantic glass window
And gaze beyond the tall buildings
They were waving, and smiling joyfully at me.
It’s as if someone special was calling out to me
but the thick crowd drowned out that unusual voice.
Suddenly I feel a tender touch invoking inside me
Forcing me to stretch out my hands
I stretch and kept reaching until we connect.
The powerful force of nature ignites us sending
an exuberant rush of energy through my body.
I watch her rise slowly beyond the horizon
and without warning her magnificent light
illuminates the room, melting hate and infuriation.
Tossing out indignation and blatant doubt.
I stare directly into her eyes and watch her
tenacious power melts the ranging storms around me
obliterating my painful moments and eradicating
the doubtful clouds hanging over me.
I embraced her with dignity
I embraced her with love
Warmth embracing warmth
Fire embracing fire
I watched her climb to the top of the mountain with dignity
Holding so dear the values that all of us share
Goodness gracious!
I can see her once more.
My friend of the exuberant
Far ranging converse gone,
The over the front hedge
Meaningful long chats gone,
The stop and talk when we met
So very cruelly suddenly gone.
I feel so very deeply for
His beloved family and wife
And for the great big hole
He’s left in my own life.
No more anecdotes to be shared
No more speaking face to face
My world now somewhat shrunken
A much less satisfying place.
Stood by the hedge to remember
With closed eyes to easily recall
Those pleasant easy hours
When we never quite said it all.
I’ll remember with joy
Those memories I have
Of every single chat, regret
All those we’d yet to have.
Never quite changing the world
But not for want of trying
Yes, we never changed the world
But it was not for want of trying.
It's her birthday!
Neither the first nor the second,
Just born and just celebrated,
for she has journeyed through for so long,
so long to stare at the clear sky,
so long the register as a part of the world,
so long to put an end to the prolonged wait
of all the people excited to catch her glimpse.
Her journey has a lot of parts,
Some of which were set on stormy nights,
some on exceedingly hot afternoons,
But the end result gives her all of its worth.
Let her live a life of satisfaction,
Let all the happy hours stay in her lot,
Let her be the limelight for the time when she has a deserving spot,
Let her splash some colours in people's lives as same as her colourful petals!!
It's a disheartening fact to recollect that
her life as a flower is way too short,
but it's on her to make this time memorable or not,
It's on her to bloom from a bud to see the world or not....
Yeah! her life is unpredictable, that's for sure,
some careless people might show denial in even plucking her,
but let us remember that these pleasing and cheerful creatures,
need some embracing hands to make their life worth living and memorable.
It's all in these little things that matter at the end,
the same little ones around which a lot of bigger ones revolve,
Ranging from beggining lives to the final death ends,
and comprising trivial and reliving bunch of memories....